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Daniel was with us.

He nodded at Messenger, and at me. I had no capacity to respond. Had he decided that I myself needed to be taken away to the Shoals, I would scarcely have been able to object. I closed my eyes, unwilling to see them or anything at all.

Perhaps they had seen that I was almost as destroyed as Nicolet, for when I opened my eyes again, I was in my abode and in my bed.

The book of Isthil lay beside me where I had left it.

With shaking hands I opened it and began to tear out the pages.

19

WHEN I WOKE, AFTER HOW LONG I CANNOT GUESS, the pages of Isthil’s book were not crumpled around me. The book, whole and intact, lay beside me.

I walked like a zombie to the bathroom, and then to the kitchen. I stared blankly at the coffee machine.

“I’ll make a pot,” Messenger said.

“Screw you.”

Unperturbed, he began adding spoonfuls of coffee and then water. Neither of us spoke until the blessed juice had drained down and then filled our cups and mouths.

“Sorry,” I managed to say.

“I’ve heard worse,” Messenger said. “And said far worse, and far more frequently, to my own master when I was an apprentice.”

Okay, that softened my anger just a little.

I made some scrambled eggs and toast for both of us.

“I was tempted,” I confessed around a mouthful of food. “By Oriax.”

“It’s what she does. She’s very good at it.” Was that the hint of a rueful smile? Maybe a hint of a hint.

“What of Haarm? And Oliver?”

“They are not our concern. Not now. Though they may be in the future.”

“And Graciella?”

“I have not been given permission to see her future,” he said. “But it is possible that she has learned that the contract she signed is not valid. And from that . . .” He shrugged.

I often talk too much, and I’m sure Messenger thinks I ask too many questions. But for once I had the good sense not to ask.

I did not ask how Graciella could have come to learn that she might still have a way to find her own path in life. I’d seen what happened to Chandra.

I was not all better. I would never be all better. It would take more than sleep and scrambled eggs to repair me. I had made my choice when I rejected Oriax. I knew she would try again, but for now at least, I had made my choice. But another temptation had taken root in my mind, was growing: I would go to the Shoals. I would search there for Ariadne. I would no longer be haunted by her unknown fate.

Whether Messenger liked it or not, I would discover the truth of his lost love. Because only then would he, or I, have any peace.

“Messenger, I . . . I don’t suppose we ever get to call in sick,” I asked.

He frowned and looked me up and down, searching for some visible explanation.

“Just cramps,” I said.

“Did you eat something bad?”

“No, Messenger. Female cramps. You know . . . I’m fine, but if I could take a day . . .”